


Sleeps Beneath My Lapel

by Draycevixen



Series: POI fic by Draycevixen [13]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Episode Related, Episode Tag, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Yuletide, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>. </p><p>Donnelly has Reese, Finch has a plan and then there's the small matter of Christmas.</p><p>Set after the 2:10 Shadow Box episode. </p><p>NOTE: This story was written and posted prior to the to the airing of episode 2:11.  I have no doubt that 2:11 will reveal me to be totally wrong about the outcome of events in 2:10 Shadow Box, but as I was writing prior to the airing of 2:11 I felt free to speculate. </p><p>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeps Beneath My Lapel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msmoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/gifts).



.

The blanket was soft, the sheets were clean and the head had obviously been sanitized for his protection. While there was no mint on his pillow the holding cell was a long way from the most uncomfortable place he’d ever spent the night. The FBI had even brought him a breakfast sandwich and coffee. 

In the hours since Donnelly had first deposited him in the cell he’d seen both Fusco and Carter attempt without success to get past the FBI agent standing guard at the end of the hallway. 

Reese paced the short length of his cell, stretching and rolling his shoulders, trying to stay loose and ready. 

His options weren’t looking good as he’d now been held for over twenty four hours without Donnelly making any move to interrogate him or to transfer him to an FBI facility. As things stood, he couldn’t see any way to escape from the precinct without being willing to maim and kill and New York’s finest had done nothing to deserve such treatment. The problem was the longer he stayed the more likely it was that Donnelly had somehow uncovered his background and was just waiting on the CIA to pick him up. Now the CIA was a different story, he was willing to maim and kill their agents if necessary although Finch wouldn’t approve. 

_Finch_. He’d half expected to have received a visit from a high priced lawyer by now, one insistent enough to even make it past the FBI. Not that anything could be done really, the CIA would ensure Reese never saw the inside of a courtroom, but he’d hoped to have a chance to pass one last message to Finch. He gripped the cell bars peering down the hallway to where the door remained stubbornly closed. Just as well, what would his message be anyway? He’d already thanked Finch, anything else would just be emotionally messy and unwelcome news. For an idealist, Finch was one hell of a functional realist and he’d probably already started examining his list of suitable replacements for Reese. 

It took a few minutes for it to register that the caterwauling coming from the end of the hallway and getting closer was actually _Jingle Bells_ being badly mangled by a drunk in a grubby Santa suit who was following a put-upon looking police officer. The drunk weaved to clang against the bars of Reese's cell, the drunk’s face mere inches from his, the gin fumes almost making his eyes water; Santa must have bathed in it. 

“Jiiiiin-gle bellllllls! 'Mr. Good News' says stay put and don’t kill anyone. Jiiiinggg-el bells!”

He nodded and watched as Fusco was led away by the officer to the drunk tank at the end of the hallway.

An hour later, another officer retrieved Fusco. 

Two hours later, Donnelly’s men came for Reese. He followed instructions and didn’t attempt to escape despite the three opportunities that presented themselves during the five minute trip from his holding cell to an interrogation room. The FBI really needed to improve its training. The agents handcuffed him to the table and stepped back to stand against the wall. 

When the door opened again, Reese could see Donnelly talking to Carter. “Sorry, detective, but I will be conducting this interview alone.” 

Donnelly entered the room and then gestured for his men to leave. No doubt about the improvement needed in FBI training. 

“I’m sorry for the delay, Agent Rooney.” 

So Donnelly had managed to track down at least one of his aliases. It didn’t matter as long as Finch was safe. 

“Your file is most impressive particularly your work here in New York, well, the little that wasn’t redacted.”

He just stared at Donnelly. 

“Yes, well.” Donnelly sat down across the table for him reaching into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone which he placed on the table between them. “I have someone here who wishes to speak to you.” Donnelly hit the speaker phone button. 

“Agent Rooney?”

Reese managed to conceal his surprise at hearing Finch’s voice, slouching further down into his chair. 

“This is Kestrel. Agent Donnelly has been briefed on a need to know basis about your deep cover assignment with New York based suspected terrorists.”

“And how much does he need to know, _Sir_?”

“Enough to get you released from custody without making our targets suspicious, Agent Rooney, but you will not discuss your assignment further with Agent Donnelly. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Reese straightened up in his chair as Donnelly would expect ‘Agent Rooney’ to do when issued a direct command. 

“Then I will leave you in Agent Donnelly’s capable hands.” 

Reese felt an irrational disappointment that Finch hung up without another word to him. 

“I’m sorry to have to return you to your holding cell for another night, Agent Rooney.”

“What?”

“Kestrel’s instructions. You’re to be held for a total of 48 hours at which point one of the other men we picked up with you will be arrested for the 'man in a suit' crimes on the basis of the evidence Kestrel provided. Then you’ll be set free, not enough evidence to hold you.” Donnelly stood up to leave and was halfway to the door before he turned around and came back to lean on the table. “One agent to another, I’d appreciate it if you could put a good word in for me with your boss. The attention to detail in your operation is impressive, your deep cover background alone. I mean, your fingerprints at the New Rochelle crime scene? So meticulous. We might have never even made that connection but there they were, just in case.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Carter had looked bemused when she’d come to get him, telling him he was being released for lack of evidence, but she’d said nothing further as she’d signed him out at the front desk, returning his belt and shoelaces. 

He’d taken a cab to an intersection six blocks from the library then walked the rest of the way, doubling back several times to check that Donnelly wasn’t having him tailed. He’d been disappointed but somehow not surprised to find Finch absent from the library. 

He considered waiting, anxious to get this conversation over with, but he couldn’t decide if Finch had just miscalculated his release time, was out doing some groundwork for a new number or just didn’t want to have to look at Reese for a while. Anything was possible. Reese didn’t regret his decision to stand by Abby and her boyfriend but he did regret that he’d probably driven a wedge again into his developing relationship with Finch. 

_Relationship_. Yeah, the only thing standing between him and Finch was his tendency to get himself in to trouble. Finch was far too smart to get involved with the likes of him. He shook it off, not a big believer in wasting time on what could never be. 

 

Reese had still cherished a vague hope that Finch might be waiting for him at his apartment but it was empty. He shed his dirty clothes and picked up a pair of clean sweat pants and a t-shirt as he made for the shower, dropping his gun on the bathroom counter just in case. He’d been offered access to shower facilities at the station on his second night, after Donnelly knew about his being an undercover agent, but he’d refused. No good agent ever chose to be naked and vulnerable in an unsecured environment if he could help it. He cranked the water up high switched it over to the steam setting and got in the shower. 

The steam helped ease his tension levels somewhat but what he really needed was a drink or to get laid. He wasn’t ever going to crawl far enough back in to a bottle for that to work, so that left sex. 

It wasn’t that hard to find a friend for the evening if you picked the right bar and it was Christmas, plenty of people looking to hook up and do something foolish for the holidays. He wondered what Finch’s plans were for Christmas. He couldn’t imagine Finch picking up anyone in a bar but perhaps he already had someone, someone small, pretty, lovely and kind like Grace, not like— he turned on the shower controls and shoved his head under the hot water, letting it beat down across his shoulder blades.

Better to think about what he could have. Perhaps he’d find a tall redhead with a wicked jaw and cocksucking lips, or a mature woman, sure of herself, all soft curves and sweet smelling. He closed his eyes, thinking about the imaginary redhead on his knees sucking him off in a dark alley behind a bar, before he fucked the obliging figment of his imagination up against the wall. He ran a hand down over his hardening cock. Obviously his body was on board but the redhead wasn’t closing the deal. The alley faded, the library taking its place as it had so frequently in recent months, yielding a kaleidoscope of well honed fantasies.

Finch bent over his desk as he fucked him.

Finch sucking him off as he clutched at the bookshelves behind him for support.

Finch fucking him until he came across Finch’s keyboard and monitors.

Finch still fully clothed except for his tie with only his flies undone... Naked on his knees before Finch with his hands bound behind his back by the missing tie, deep-throating Finch's cock. 

He was close, one hand stripping his cock the other dropping to cup his balls and tease at the skin behind, but he still wasn’t quite there. No, it was the fantasy of Finch then freeing his hands, pulling him to his feet and kissing him that finally pushed him over the edge, one hand braced against the shower wall, gasping with the force of his orgasm. 

 

He turned off the water and dried himself before rubbing the steam off the mirror to check on the two day growth of stubble on his face. He thought about leaving it but since Finch had given him a job the Grizzly Adams look held too many bad memories. He lathered up his chin and got to work with his razor.

He’d just finished dressing when he heard a loud clatter out in his apartment. He picked up his gun and threw open the bathroom door going low and to the side, covering ground fast. 

Finch was bending over picking up one of the kitchen stools. If pressed Reese would have said he knew it was Finch from the fact that Bear was rapidly approaching wagging his tail in greeting but really he’d have recognized that expensively clad backside anywhere. 

He patted Bear, watching as Finch straightened slowly righting the stool. 

“Ah, Mr. Reese. I hope we didn’t startle you. Bear knocked it over trying to get to a tennis ball underneath it.”

He set his gun on the kitchen counter. “I went to the library first.” 

Finch was avoiding eye contact. “I thought you might. Some errands detained me rather longer than I thought they would else we would have been there." Finch started walking towards the door. "We should be going.”

It didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t Finch just waited to see him at the library if he was leaving already? “You don’t want to talk about Donnelly? If you’re expecting me to apologize—”

Finch turned to face him, eyebrow quirking. “You lack impulse control, Mr. Reese. I’ve learned to accept it.”

So Finch wasn’t expecting an apology. Perhaps he wanted to talk to the only person he could really tell about how he’d pulled it off. 

“And hacking the FBI database?”

“It seemed only prudent to plan ahead given your history.” Finch shrugged it off like it was child’s play. 

Reese didn’t like guessing games. “What are you doing here, Finch?” 

“I was going to offer to make you dinner tomorrow” Finch looked startled to have blurted it out “but I am sure you have plans.”

“Why would I have plans?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“What?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. I thought you might have plans. Detective Carter or perhaps the charming Ms. Morgan?”

“No, Finch, I have no plans.” Finch wanted to spend Christmas Eve with him. Even if he’d had plans Reese would have dropped every one of them. “Until you’d mentioned it I didn’t even remember what night it was.”

“There is an Italian tradition—”

“The Festa dei Sette Pesci.” Reese smirked, suddenly feeling back on familiar ground. “Are you Italian, Fringuello?”

Finch merely smirked at the notion that he’d ever make it that easy. “Until tomorrow then, Mr. Reese. I will call you with driving directions to one of my properties that has a very well equipped kitchen.” 

If Reese hadn’t been watching Finch so closely he wouldn’t have noticed Finch’s glance back towards the table and the small box sitting in the middle of it. He strode quickly over to it. “What’s this?”

“A Christmas present.” Finch was looking on edge again. 

Reese opened the box which contained a key attached to a Ford Mustang keyring. “You bought me a Mustang?” He rubbed his thumb slowly across the keyring. 

“1965, gunmetal black. It is in your parking space downstairs.”

Back in his CIA psych evaluations he’d admitted that a 1965 Mustang was the one thing he’d really wanted when he was a teenager. He knew Finch had read his files but the fact that Finch had remembered— He’d crossed the room and was kissing Finch before he was even totally aware of his decision to do so. 

Unfortunately, Finch wasn’t kissing back. Reese stepped away, already trying to think of a way to recover from his newest fuck up. 

“A simple thank you would have sufficed.” Finch’s tone was glacial. 

If it weren’t for the unconscious way Finch raised his fingers to touch his lip Reese would have apologized and played it off as a heady mixture of exhaustion and excitement. Instead, he decided to try honesty for a change.

“It wasn’t a thank you. It was a failure to control a very long standing impulse.” 

This time, Finch kissed him. 

 

When they surfaced again, Finch's jacket and tie were on the floor and Reese was naked and sinking to his knees. 

“You know, John, perhaps it might be better if I stay here tonight." Finch caressed Reese's cheek. "Then I won’t need to send you driving directions to my home tomorrow.”

He smiled up at Finch, pressing his face further in to Finch's touch, reaching for Finch's belt. “I have always appreciated your ability to plan ahead, Harold.”

 

.


End file.
